A/N: Just a little snippet from the upcoming chapter, a teaser if you will :p (new chap will be out soon) But this little piece of Alistair introspective can stand on its own, when one know that Alistair is left behind injured in camp after an darkspawn ambush (not Tamlen related) and has a lot of time to think...over things. And since I love to use symbolism... yeah. Also a sort of answer to all critics that say "Lenya is a rude jerkass and it doesn't make sense for him to fall in love with her because he disapproves in the game, when you are not nice to him." Because obviously a character is not allowed to develop beyond their initial premise and are not more than just the "trope" they were formed around. Yeah, right... O_o

Sorry for grammar mistakes, because I'm german and a hence a part time grammar idiot and this part isn't beta-d yet. Will it replace later with the corrected version. Have fun.

Thorns

Waking up in her tent was strange, even more so within her bedroll.

The smell of herbs given to him were overbearing within the tent, yet underneath there was always a faint lingering scent that was so distinguishably her. With all of her things and that scent surrounding him, Alistair couldn't help but to feel like an intruder in an area where he not belonged. So he got up and sat now amidst their half-destroyed camp, staring at this very rose that had even withstood an ambush of a full darkspawn horde.

It had fallen out of his backpack, when he'd vainly searched for something edible within. Maker knew, he was hungry and his mended bones still hurt badly, but watching the flower had a soothing, distracting effect on his mind.

Its deep-red petals were slightly pressed flat from being in his pack for so long, but aside of that, it was as beautiful as ever. As if there hadn't been various darkspawn trampled down his tent, nor a massive fight last night. The rose seemed to ignore all obstacles, all difficulties where normal flowers would have withered long ago and was still blooming proudly, almost defiant.

Sturdy little thing.

Alistair smiled.

In more way than one, this flower was reminding him on Lenya. She was with certainty no gentle flower, but a proud, stubborn creature of nature covering herself with thorns, defying all circumstances.

Just like a rose.

Trying to reach out to it might hurt, one could get stung or even bleed at those thorns the rose was protecting herself with. But it was only possible to appreciate its beauty and grace if one would not give up after the first sting of the thorns.

It took him a long time, but he was able to see exactly this beauty of her in all perfect clarity now. And he wouldn't want to have it another way, didn't want to go back to the time where his hands were covered with wounds from desperately trying to reach out to her. From getting stung over and over again with her thorns, because she hadn't trust him enough to let him see her real beauty that lay beneath her protection, the thorns. Others could continue to get stung for all he cared, but he did not want the same fate for himself, not where he had managed to see there was more, so much more.

Through her prior pale facade was now a rich depth of color shining through, one that she had let seen him. He had discovered similarities he had thought impossible before and there was care where he would have surmised contempt.

She was a rare and wonderful thing admits all this darkness.

Just like this rose.

With each day the part of him who wanted her to know all that, to make her see how beautiful she was, was becoming bigger and louder, unwilling to back down again like before. Especially now, after the sudden attack that nearly cost him his life, if it hadn't been for Lenya herself, his inner voice had never been louder and more clear. He didn't want to perish without the barest attempt of letting her know. Maybe not everything and at the same time, but something.

It was a horrifying and outright scary epiphany and yet a very liberating one. Alistair smiled anew while still observing the rose, watching how the light of descending dusk were glimmering with its rich myriads of colors in its petals.

He wanted her to have this rose.

It would only be fitting.

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews the last time, you all are awesome. *throws cookies* :D